Thunder Road
by pretentious-emo-kid
Summary: Huddy. Probably one of the better things I've ever written. Contains my best line EVER [the Van Gough one]. House interrupts Cuddy when she's realxing. He wants a heart to heart. Shame he can't be serious. Mixture of fluff, humour, and some deeper stuff.


I've never written a proper song fic before, but this song is so beautiful, it couldn't help but inspire me. It's the Bruce Springsteen's 'Thunder Road' and if you've never listened to it, it's definitely something you should do before you die. The lines aren't in order – for the sake of the story I've mixed them up, but they're all from the song.

Like I've said, I've never written one of these before, so reviews would be really, really, reeeally appreciated. Sickly sweet review replies for the good ones. :) And I do realise that it's not really in the style of most song fics. Sorry about that.

Cuddy probably doesn't live in a suburban house with a (very convenient for me) front porch, but hey, you can let it go in return for some decent Huddy, can't ye?

Oh, and at one point, you might worry that this Hameron…it's not.

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**The screen door slams,**

**Mary's dress sways.**

**Like a vision she dances across the porch**

It was soft, warm summer evening. The sun was slowly setting, and the harsh light of the daytime had been replaced by a hazy, golden glow that gave the very normal suburban street an almost fairytale-like quality. Cuddy wasn't entirely sure why she had been pulled so irresistibly outside, but she wasn't sorry for it. For the first time in many months, she was glad that she lived on a street populated mainly by young families. It meant that the road was almost entirely empty, and wonderfully silent.

So, here she was, on a blissfully peaceful June evening, sat cross legged on a large rocking chair that lived on her porch. She was still in her work clothes, but she had abandoned her shoes, and they lay beside the chair. Sighing happily, she bent her neck backwards, closing her eyes and enjoying the tickling of her long hair on her back where her top had ridden up ever so slightly.

**As the radio plays.**

**Roy Orbison sings for the lonely.**

She could hear soft music from the house next door. The couple who lived there were holding a dinner party. They had just married a few weeks ago, and, as the woman had informed Cuddy as they both retrieved their papers that morning, the dinner party was for all the people who had not been able to make the wedding.

At the time, Cuddy had felt a sharp stab of jealousy at her neighbour's words, but this evening, her solitude did not upset or depress her. This evening, she was content with only her own gentle breathing for company.

So, naturally, the one employee who managed to piss her off every day chose that exact moment to pull up in his horrible, loud, smelly motorbike.

**Hey, that's me and I want you only.**

She sighed again as he removed his helmet, but this time, there was nothing happy about the sound.

"What do you want, House? Vicodin? A raise? Permission to cut a patient in half and then sew them back together again? Whatever it is, you can have it, just don't wind me up. Not tonight."

House smiled a small half-grin. She had clearly amused him, and she should have felt honoured as it wasn't something that happened very often, but it did nothing to improve her mood. House did not belong on her road that night. His scruffy hair and stubble looked odd against the elegantly manicured lawns, his black leathers were an out of place blot on the beauty of her view, the argument he was inevitably going to engage her in was something she did not have the energy for.

"Not tonight, but remind me to call you up on every one of those favours in the future."

"So why are you here?" Damn it, she was feeling irritable already!

He grinned again. "I'm here to pay a social visit."

That threw her. Clearly it was one of those things he did that made absolutely no sense to anyone but him. One of those things she suspected he did purely for that reason. One of those absurd, self-appointed missions he performed simply to see the look of confusion and exasperation on everyone else's faces.

"\What? Is it something that's going to keep you out of jail, 'cause I'm not in the mood to indulge you this evening."

The annoying smirk had still not left his face. He swung his leg from over his bike, and retrieving his cane, made his way, uninvited, towards the porch.

"Clearly. What's this, Dr. Cuddy? Bad day?"

The false, caring tone of his voice would have been more convincing if he had not been the cause of the bad day he knew that she had had.

"You know, House, for once, I would like to have a day in which a patient doesn't threaten to sue me because of the, quote, "crazy doctor who tried to kill me," unquote."

"Van Gough hardly sold anything until after he died."

"What?"

"Genius; you little people have such difficulty recognising it." By now he had reached the porch. Stretching his bad leg out straight, he leant his back against her front door, and followed her gaze down the rapidly dimming street.

**Don't turn me home again,**

**I just can't face myself alone again.**

**Don't run back inside,**

**Darling, you know just what I'm here for.**

"House," this time, her voice was quieter and more serious than it had previously been. "What do you want?"

He was silent for a few moments, simply staring down the street, his expression impossible to read. She did not pressure him to speak. If she wasn't mistaken, she was about to be treated to sincerity.

"The OC is awesome company, but there's a limit to how much you can medically watch…and I'm out of whisky."

Cuddy nodded, surprised, but understanding. She stood up and disappeared inside her house for a couple of seconds, emerging again with a hard-backed dining chair in her arms. After a brief moment of silent deliberation, she placed it a right-angle to her own. House made no gesture of gratitude, but settled silently into the chair.

Cuddy shivered, and suddenly noticed that the sun had fully set. Once again, she retreated inside, this time reappearing with a handful of tea lights, two beers, a box of matches, and a blanket. I took her no more than thirty seconds to place the tea lights at very various strategic positions around the porch and light them. She then placed one of the beers on the ground on front of House. The smallest, tight nod of the head was the only thanks she received. Rolling her eyes, she sat back on her rocking chair, and wrapped the blanket around her legs.

And so they remained for the next few hours, silent, only moving to sip from their beers or two adjust their positions in their chairs. Each lost in their own thoughts, as they stared at the silhouettes of house and trees through the crisp darkness.

**So you're scared and you're thinking**

**That maybe we ain't that young anymore.**

Cuddy was very, very confused. Even when House was being genuine, he managed to perplex her. She had no idea what he wanted from her, why he had come to _her _of all people. The part of her that always snarled and screamed when he annoyed her was warning her that it was probably all a ruse to get her into bed, but the other less cynical part of her reasoned that, perhaps, he was honestly lonely, and in need of company. Perhaps he was seeing how pointless his attitude to life was.

It was at that moment that, once again demonstrating his impeccable timing, House threw a couple of vicodin pills down his throat.

And thus the spell was broken. The inky blackness of the night was no longer so beautiful, it was foreboding, the sound of the TV in the house across the street was suddenly very audible, and the blanket around her shoulder seemed to have the heat retaining properties of paper.

She was sat, freezing her extremities off, missing her bed, and all to satisfy one of House's irritating whims.

**Well, now I'm no hero,**

**That's understood.**

"Well," she said, certain that she saw House jump, "As fun as this has been, I really had better be getting to bed."

House did not reply. He didn't even look at her. For the second time that evening, she rolled her eyes at his rudeness. Gathering up the empty bottles and burnt out tea lights, she headed for her front door. House could make his own way off the porch whenever he decided to move.

"I think I'm in love."

The words prompted Cuddy to drop everything she was holding. She spun round quickly, trying to distinguish House's face from the many other black shapes that were floating around in the darkness.

"What?! House, are you…" she trailed off, waiting for the inevitable punch-line. It didn't come. He seemed deadly serious.

"House, are you joking, because if you are, I'm _really_ not in the mood."

"Right, so you and Wilson plague me for years to unburden myself onto your awaiting ears, and the first time I do, I get accused of joking. Tell me, is that your warped idea of caring? Or is that what they taught you at useless doormat college?" His words had a sarcastic bite to them.

"Okay, I get it, you're serious. You know, abuse isn't the best way to get me to listen to you." She was tempted to add, 'and I do have better things to be doing with my time', but she didn't want to push him away. She felt the same kind of excitement Columbus must have felt upon discovering America. She was venturing into uncharted territory. Who knew what sort of horrors was lurking in the mind of House?

She settled back into the rocking chair.

"Who are you…in love with?" The question sounded absurd, considering who she was asking.

"Cameron."

Of course. Cuddy frowned at the picture of Cameron that appeared in her head. She had never gotten on with her. It was probably something to do with her presumption that she was the only one who gave a damn about House.

"How long have you been in love with her?"

"I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you that I'm finding this very therapeutic." Once again, that sarcastic edge that made Cuddy shudder.

"House, I have to try and get some background on this. If you hadn't noticed, it's a bit out of the blue. Now, once again, how long have you been in love with her?

"A few months." She was shocked by the matter-of-fact tone in which he uttered these huge revelations.

"Right, and are you planning to do anything about it?"

It sounded as though he was frowning, though, of course, in the darkness she couldn't be sure. "Well, that's why I'm talking to you. I need advice."

Cuddy settled back in her chair and pondered. On the one hand, a meaningful relationship could make House more cheerful, and generally easier to work with. On the other hand, the complications could be enormous, she wasn't sure that Cameron would be able to handle House on one of his 'difficult' days, and some small part of her was raising another argument she couldn't quite put her finger on. Jealousy? No. It couldn't be.

"Well, I think that you should keep it to yourself. For the moment, at least. Relationships with colleagues are never a good idea."

"Never?" This time, she could not identify his tone.

"Never," she said, with a hint of finality to her voice.

**And I know that you're lonely, **

**And there's words I ain't spoken,**

**But tonight we'll be free,**

**All the promises will be broken.**

"Well," he said, "I feel adequately unburdened. Thanks for the beer."

Cuddy was shocked. As quickly as he had opened up, he had closed back in again. She couldn't help her incredulous exclamation.

"What? That's it?"

"Sorry, you wanted to revel in some more of my misery?"

"God, I can't stand you at times!"

"Liar."

"What?" Once again, he had spoken in that bizarre tone she had never before heard.

"I called you a liar. Why else were you so set against me trying anything with Cameron? You don't hate me at all."

"Argh! I'm confused. Are you in love with Cameron or not?"

"Not."

"So, I've spent the evening listening to you talk a load of crap?"

"No. I am in love."

"Right, with Wilson? Or a cat? Or your mother, maybe? I'm not falling for that again!"

"Seriously, you're not very nice to people who are trying to be sincere."

It was at that moment that Cuddy grabbed his arm, led him into the entrance hall, and switched the light on. Ignoring his squinting, she stared straight into his eyes. For some reason, adrenalin was pumping uncontrollably through her body. She was trembling, and her palm was damp as she gripped his arm. In the back of her mind, she was wishing he had never come round. What happened to her peaceful evening of tranquillity? That was what House did. He disrupted her life, and destroyed all her chances of normality. He was always there, and he always came with an entourage of chaos.

"House, I am tired, I am cold, and I am annoyed. Please, just forget that you're House for a moment, and without any sarcasm or patronising or expletives, tell me why you decided to come round this evening."

"Because I'm in love."

She dropped his arm. "I give up. You are a lost cause. You can let yourself out, can't you? I need to get ready for bed."

She turned towards her bedroom.

**Show a little faith, there's magic in the night.**

**You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright.**

**Oh, and that's alright with me.**

"Wait." She stopped walking, but she didn't turn round. "I don't want to be a lost cause. You ever wake up in a pool of your own vomit, because you took too many of a dead guy's pills? I have, and I don't want to do it again." His voice was filled with anger.

Cuddy let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. There it was. What she had been waiting for all evening. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she walked over to him, and planted a soft, but passionate kiss on his lips.

After a second or so, panic at what she was doing set in, but it was okay, because he took over. Letting his cane fall to the floor with a crash, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. She felt his tight grip, and knew that the second she put her lips on his, she had signed up to be his emotional anchor, to help him find his way back to normality, but she didn't mind, because she also knew that as much as she would be used and abused, she was loved.

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PLEASE review. It makes me happy. No flames though, eh:) 


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